Forbidden

december will be full of abundance

december will be full of love

december will be full of family

december will be full of self care

december will be full of studying

december will be full of good grades

december will be full of fun

december will be full of discipline

december will be full of cute clothes

december will be full of winter shows

december will be full of makeup purchases

december will be full of cozy blankets

december will be full of hot chocolate

december will be full of fun activities

december will be full of working towards goals

december will be full of everything my heart desires and more

tumblr is the little town I visit everyday and you guys are my fellow village people

FREAK LIKE ME .ᐟ

summary: you’re all leopard print, cherry lip glosses and the prettiest thing art donaldson had ever saw in his life. but behind all that, you might be the biggest sex freak he also had the pleasure to meet. inspiration: freak by doja cat.

pairing: dilf ceo art donaldson x younger fem reader.

cw: +18. mdni. 1.6k words. kinda plot kinda not. use of the word “daddy” sexually. mention of c!ckwarming. fem self-touching. slight chocking. oral s!x fem receiving. escort kinda reader.

You were a walking temptation from the very first moment he saw you.

Smiling with that sticky-sweet gloss coating your lips, gum popping lazily between your teeth, a leopard print dress hugging every curve like sin itself. Your heels clicked against the hardwood floors with every step, too high to be anything but unholy. You looked like a reward, like a treat—something made to be admired and ruined in equal measure.

Art Donaldson, forty-one, CEO, and already a man who had seen more than his fair share of pretty things, couldn’t help the way you caught his attention that night. Maybe it was the way you laughed too easily, how you tilted your head when he talked about business, all wide-eyed and sugary sweet, like you were just a little confused but so eager to learn. Maybe it was the way you wrapped your hand around his arm, all flirty and innocent, like you didn’t know exactly what you were doing.

He should’ve known then—what kind of monster you really were underneath all that pink and pout.

But he didn’t. Not until you showed up at his place one night with nothing but that same gloss, a fur-trimmed coat, and matching panties that disappeared under the hem of a dress so short it could have been a belt. Not until you crawled into his lap and asked, in that breathy baby voice, “Can I just warm myself on your cock while we watch this, Daddy? I promise I won’t move…”

And he had said yes. Of course he had.

You were his weakness. A real, living indulgence. His little bunny.

He took you to dinners with his associates like a proud fucking trophy, watching them all try not to stare when you crossed your legs too slowly or licked sugar from the rim of your martini glass. You'd whisper something ridiculous in his ear—do they know I don’t wear panties when I’m with you, Daddy?—and he’d have to clench his jaw not to drag you under the table and shut you up with his fingers.

You were smart, and he knew it. Smarter than you let on. All that dizzy sweetness? The pouty lips and dumb-little-girl act? A weapon. A way to make him melt; say yes, buy you things, bend over backwards just for a chance to hear you whimper please again.

God, you were his undoing. And tonight? Tonight, you were in rare form.

He found you in his library, curled up in the window seat pretending to read some leather-bound novel you’d picked out just for show. One of his favorites—he knew you weren’t even five pages in. Not with your legs spread the way they were, one heel kicked off and the other dangling from your toes. No panties. Of course.

You were touching yourself, slow and lazy, like you were waiting for him to notice.

He didn’t say a word at first. Just stood in the doorway, watching the slow movement of your fingers between your legs. You were slick already—he could see it from here.

“You couldn’t wait for me?” he asked, voice low and rough.

You looked up from the book like you were surprised. Like he’d interrupted something terribly important. “I missed you,” you said, all sweet and breathless. “Needed a little help getting through this part…”

He was in front of you in seconds, yanking the book from your lap and tossing it across the room like it was worthless. His hand was around your throat next, not tight, just enough to tilt your head back and make you look at him.

“You’re such a fucking brat,” he growled, thumb dragging across your bottom lip, pushing past it like he owned your mouth. “Always teasing. Always playing dumb. You think I don’t know what you’re doing, doll?”

You moaned around his thumb, eyes fluttering as drool slid past your lips.

He shoved you back into the cushions and dropped to his knees, tearing your thighs apart like he’d been starved for days. And maybe he had. Maybe it had only been hours since he last had you, but with you, it never felt like enough.

He buried his mouth in your warmth without a word, lapping at your sweetness like you were the only thing that could quench his thirst. You tasted like need, like candy and sin and everything he wasn’t supposed to want.

And you made the prettiest sounds—high, desperate whines, hips bucking into his face despite your shaky little hands trying to be good, trying not to move. Trying to not tug on his hair to bring his head closer and closer to where you wanted him the most.

“Daddy—Daddy, I was just—oh fuck, please,” you gasped, head thrown back as he sucked your clit between his lips, relentless. The pleasure felt like a sin.

“Quiet,” he growled, voice muffled. “You wanted to be a brat, now you take what I give you.”

You came like that after a moment—fast and messy, thighs trembling, lips parted to gasp. Art got up from the floor while licking his lips, moved you from the window seat by picking you up, letting you rest onto his lap where it was the most comfortable.

Your lashes fluttered as you leaned into him, curled on his lap like you belonged there—because you did. You always did.

His fingers slid up your thigh, not to tease this time, but to just feel. Possessive. Big hand gripping you tight. You sighed like a spoiled kitten, satisfied to be right where you wanted to be: draped over Art Donaldson like you were his prize, his good girl, his best mistake.

“Why do you look at me like that?” you murmured, voice barely above a pout, head tipping back to catch his eyes. “Like you’re about to eat me up.”

He smirked, thumb brushing along the corner of your sticky lip gloss coated mouth. “Because I might do, again.”

You giggled, but there was a flush in your cheeks that betrayed how badly you loved it. How desperately you loved him—that dark, commanding look he gave you when the world melted away. When it was just you and him. Your age didn’t matter. Your fake ditzy act didn’t matter. The whispers, the disapproval, the stares from women who wished they were in your place—they didn’t matter either.

None of it mattered when Art looked at you like you were the only thing that could bring him to his knees. “Was it always like this?” you whispered against his jaw. “With the others?”

He stilled, brows furrowing slightly, and that quiet weight settled in his chest again. He tilted your chin so you had no choice but to look at him. “No, doll. Not even close.” And you believed him. You always had.

Because no one else got this part of him. The man who’d built an empire from steel and stones now crumbled with just a look from you. His patience unraveled when you kissed the underside of his jaw. His control broke when you wore something too short just to test him. And God, you loved to test him.

“You ruin me,” he said lowly, against your temple. “And I let you.”

You smiled, smug and soft, because you knew it was true. You were his weak spot. His sin. The pretty little thing he should’ve resisted—but never could.

And deep down, you liked the way he broke his own rules for you. How he brought you into rooms you didn’t belong in and dared anyone to question it. How he kissed your shoulder in passing at business dinners, fingers grazing the back of your thigh like a promise only you understood.

Art Donaldson didn’t need a reason to spoil you. He didn’t need an excuse to fly you somewhere just to watch you twirl in front of him in another too-tight dress. He never asked why you were always pushing boundaries—because the truth was, he loved it.

He loved your chaos. Your softness. Your hunger. And maybe, just maybe… you loved him too.

You didn’t say it. Not out loud. But the way your fingers curled into his shirt said enough. The way your nose nuzzled into his neck said everything. That greedy, bratty girl who made him lose his mind was also the one who made him feel like a man again—not just a name behind magazines or a suit in a boardroom.

“Come home with me,” he said quietly. You blinked, surprised. “I already live with you.”

“No,” he said, voice rough now, like he was trying not to say too much. “I mean it. Come home with me. Let me show you I’m serious. I want… more than this.” You looked up at him, wide-eyed, mascara still a little smudged from earlier sins. “More?”

He nodded, thumb tracing your cheek like he was memorizing it. “All of it. Not just the games. Not just the sex. I want you in my bed every night, not just when you’re bored or bratty or begging. I want you mine—for real.”

You swallowed hard. And maybe you should’ve played dumb again. Teased him. Danced around the words like you always did. But instead, you nodded. “Okay.”

Art leaned in and kissed you then—not with the filthy heat of earlier, but something deeper. Slower. As if he was making a vow with his mouth pressed to yours. You could still taste your essence from his lips, and almost moaned at it.

You were still his freak. His bunny. His good girl in leopard heels and too much perfume. But now, you were something else, too. His future. And he’d never let you forget it.

trying to break up with your fuck buddy, rafe

rafe paces. back and forth. hand running through his hair, jaw tight, eyes sharp with something between frustration and disbelief.

‘you want to stop?’ his voice is even, but there’s an edge to it.

you nod, arms crossed over your chest. ‘yeah.’

‘why?’ his head tilts, eyes scanning your face like he’s searching for an answer that actually makes sense to him.

‘i don’t like what this is turning me into,’ you say, voice steady. ‘it’s not who i am. and i don’t want it to be.’

he exhales sharply, turning on his heel and pacing again. ‘where is this coming from?’

‘i’m not blaming you for anything, rafe.’ you sigh, feeling the weight of this conversation sink into your bones. ‘i just realized i don’t want to be another girl in your rotation.’

he stops mid-step, turning to face you. ‘rotation?’

you hold his gaze. ‘you know what i mean.’

his jaw tenses. ‘you knew what this was,’ he says, voice low, careful.

‘i did,’ you agree. ‘and now i know i don’t want it.’

he drags a hand down his face, shaking his head. ‘i thought everything was fine.’

‘it was,’ you admit. ‘but i’m a ‘girlfriend’ kind of girl, rafe. i have boyfriends, not fuck buddies.’

rafe lets out a dry laugh, almost disbelieving. he starts pacing again, steps restless, like he needs to move or he’ll explode.

then, from outside, a familiar voice cuts through the tension.

‘rafe! come on, man, we’re waiting!’ topper, followed by laughter and girls’ voices, high and sweet.

your stomach turns, but you don’t react. instead, you nod toward the door.

‘you should go,’ you say softly.

a pause, a sharp inhale. his jaw clenches. ‘we’re not done.’

‘i said what i needed to say.’ you swallow the lump in your throat. ‘you have girls waiting for you.’

he stops pacing. his expression hardens. ‘you think that’s what this is about?’

‘i think it doesn’t matter,’ you answer. ‘because you’re not my boyfriend, and you don’t owe me anything.’

his hands curl into fists at his sides. ‘you’re doing that thing again.’

‘what thing?’

‘acting like you don’t care.’

you inhale sharply. ‘i do care, rafe. that’s the problem.’

something flickers in his expression. for the first time, he looks uncertain. like this wasn’t supposed to happen. like he never considered the possibility of you walking away.

he starts pacing again, steps quicker now, frustration rolling off him in waves. ‘so what? you’re just done?’

you nod. ‘yeah.’

he stops. looks at you. then, after a beat, he says, ‘fine.’

you hesitate. ‘fine, what?’

‘i’ll be your boyfriend.’

you blink, caught off guard. ‘what?’

‘you want a relationship?’ he shrugs, like it’s the easiest fix in the world. ‘done.’

‘that’s not how this works.’

‘why not?’ his voice is sharper now, defensive. ‘you said you don’t want to be just another girl— fine. be my girlfriend.’

you shake your head, a humorless laugh escaping. ‘jesus, rafe.’

‘what?’

‘you don’t even want to be my boyfriend. you just don’t want to see me with someone else.’

his jaw tightens, and for the first time, he stops pacing. stands still.

‘you can’t just decide to be in a relationship because you don’t like the idea of losing me,’ you say, voice softer now. ‘that’s not love, rafe. that’s possession.’

his lips part slightly, but no words come out.

‘you don’t know how to do this,’ you continue gently. ‘how to be with someone in a way that isn’t just about control.’

he exhales, slow and deep, fingers rubbing at his jaw as he looks away for a moment. when he meets your gaze again, there’s something different there. hesitation, sure. but also something you weren’t expecting.

fear.

‘i don’t want to lose you,’ he admits, voice quiet now.

your breath catches. ‘then be better.’

rafe swallows. ‘tell me how.’

‘you already know how,’ you whisper. ‘you just have to choose it.’

the silence stretches between you again, but this time, it’s different.

it’s not heavy. it’s hopeful.

then, from outside, topper calls out again. ‘rafe! you coming or what?’

rafe doesn’t even look toward the door.

‘nah,’ he calls back, eyes still locked on yours. ‘i’m good.’

your heart was about to try to break out from behind your ribs.

his gaze softens. ‘stay?’

you hesitate. ‘rafe—’

he shakes his head, stepping closer. ‘if i say i can do this, then i can do this.’

you search his face for the lie, the excuse, the escape route he’s bound to take. but there isn’t one.

he raised your hands to his mouth and kissed the tip of each of your fingers in turn. your thumb, your index finger, your middle finger, your ring finger, finally your pinky, and then, your gaze caught the black cross that rested on the centre of his chest.

you wonder if his heart beats steadily.

his lips twitch, just slightly, into the kind of smirk that used to make you roll your eyes. ‘i’ll be the last boyfriend you’ll have,’ he murmurs. ‘you’ll see.’

your chest tightens, but this time, it’s not with dread.

‘okay,’ you whisper.

he grins, triumphant. ‘yeah?’

you exhale, a small smile creeping onto your lips despite yourself.

‘yeah.’

an. inspired by rory and logan.

Being a girl is: wanting to go to bed early but deciding to just get on tumblr/wattpad/Ao3 for a little bit and then end up finding a fic series that you really like and read until well past your usual bedtime then keeping on because it’s already past your bedtime. Then being mad when you wake up in the morning because you overslept your timer.

Texts with rafe cameron!!!

Forbidden

Synposis ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪

The new teaching assistant is too hot for his own good, distracting most of the girls in your class.You're not too bothered by him, he's just another pretty face- until you get pulled by him for failing the class. It's every girls wet dream, getting taught by the hot new teacher- and you find yourself slowly falling into a sickly sweet situation.

Warnings ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪

Age gap, inappropriate touching, arguments, angst, eventual smut, obsession, hidden relationship, public sex.

Word count ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪

2.8 k

Add yourself to my tag list | Masterlist

Part one Part two

By the next week, you’re a flurry of emotions. Mostly, you’re nervous.

Nail bitingly nervous.

You’re not sure how it’s got this bad, to the point where you’re scared to attend your own class- but you’ve been in this for three years now, and you’re not about to give up at the last stretch.

You refuse. You’d be damned if you let a man get in the way of your dream, your degree or anything you wanted to achieve.

You wrap your denim coat around you, teeth lightly chattering as you make your way over to the classroom.

“Hey, wait up,” you turn, looking over your shoulder. It’s a guy, you’re pretty sure is from your class, but you don’t really pay enough attention to know for certain.

He smiles at you as he catches up and you can see his breath in the cold dark morning. “I uh, I just wanted to say hi,” he says and you raise an eyebrow. This was doing absolutely nothing for you.

You round the corner to class in an awful silence, thankful when you see Molly waiting there for you, coffee in hand. Her head practically snaps towards the guy walking next you, but you just shake your head as you walk up to her.

“Good morning beautiful, coffee?” She asks, holding yours out while evil eyeing the guy stood half in the doorway, waiting.

“Who is that?” Molly whisper yells, taking a sip from her coffee, eyes never leaving him. You shrug, warming your hands on your own.

“Not a clue, he just wanted to say hi apparently,”

“That’s a shame,” Molly begins, raising her voice. “Too bad you’re spoken for,” both eyebrows raise as you look over your shoulder, seeing the guys shoulders slump as he enters the classroom. Your ears are scarlet red from the cold, but also the embarrassment.

You’d kinda forgot Rafe existed until Molly said that, and now you were back to feeling all nervous and shitty about going into class.

Molly grins, linking her hand into your own as she leads you into the classroom too, seeing the guy sat at the very back, at the top. You don’t give him much thought, mind already clouded with rafe, when you both take a seat on the bottom row again.

Speaking of- Rafe is sat at his desk, legs crossed onto the desk, head in a book. He’s got a blue knitted sweater on and some dark dress pants on.

“He looks yummy,” Molly whispers, nudging your arm. You sigh, observing the way he thumbs the page at the top of the book. With the way you were acting, anyone would think that you were as in love with him as the next person.

With that, you weren’t sure.

The last few students flutter into class and you look around, not spotting Kendra. Her minions are here, but no top bimbo.

Rafe closes his book, a noise you notice immediately as you turn back around, to see his eyes already boring into your own- for what feels like forever, like he’s trying to read you, before he looks away, smiling and clearing his throat.

“Welcome in guys, don’t worry, I’ve got the heating on,” a few laughs come from around the room as Rafe moves from around his desk to come stand at the front of it.

“So, we’re nearing the end of this first chunk of content- so I thought I’d give you an actual test this time. See how you’re all doing. Yes, you will be graded.” A chorus of groans.

You watch as Rafe crosses his arms over his chest and despite the sweater, you can still see his biceps- flexing as he laughs at everyone’s pity party. He reaches behind him, grabbing an even thicker stack of paper compared to the last one, and begins handing them out. He throws two on your table for you and Molly before moving onwards, not even giving you a second look.

“What was that?” Molly asks and you shrug, completely confused yourself.

“Okay guys,” Rafe begins as he stands back at the front of the class. “You get sixty minutes. No more, no less, starting now.”

The classroom falls silent as you open the first page of the paper, the material completely engraved in your mind. It doesn’t take you long to get halfway through the paper, trying to remember that you have to explain more how you got your answer, when someone taps you on the shoulder.

You turn, seeing the girl behind you beckoning hushed with a note, trying to do so without Rafe seeing. You take it, confused as you briefly look around the room. The guy from earlier slightly waves at you, grinning as he mouths for you to open it.

You turn back, cheeks burning as you unfold the piece of scrap paper.

I don’t care if you’re spoken for. I’d like to take you on a date.

Tobey

Molly taps your leg and you turn the note so she can see it, and it doesn’t take two seconds before she’s turning around and shooting him the evils. You don’t even get time to send back a no when the note is snatched out of your hand, Rafe bringing it up to read.

His eyes glance over the piece of paper before looking down at you and you shake your head- you do not want to get kicked out of class for this. There’s something behind his eyes as he looks up and spots Tobey, who’s doing anything but look now he’s been caught.

“Tobey Brown,” Rafe says, voice commanding. Everyone albeit stops what they’re doing at glances between the two, as Tobey catches Rafe’s eyes.

“Why are you passing notes in a test?” Rafe asks and Tobey shrugs, dropping his pen.

“You’re really gonna get between two students in love?” Tobey snickers, causing some of the people in the classroom to laugh. Rafe’s eyes dart down to your own as if confirming with you, to which you shake your head. He nods, looking back up at Tobey.

“You bet your ass I am. You’re disqualified from this test and you’ll receive zero points. Leave my classroom now.” You can hear Tobey scoff.

“You can’t do that,” he sounds unsure in himself, but Rafe only grins.

“I can, and I am. You don’t pass notes during tests- especially to girls who don’t want them,” a few more people laugh in the class and you look back to see Tobey’s eyes burning into you as he grabs his things. He doesn’t say a further word as he huffs out of the classroom, slamming the door behind him.

“Back to your tests guys, twenty minutes left,” Rafe says, crumpling up the note and throwing it into the trash can next to his desk.

The twenty minutes fly by, and it’s not long before Rafe is stood at the front of his desk, collecting papers from everyone as they leave. This time, you’re not the last one to leave as you pass him your paper, hoping he won’t say anything- but he does.

“Hey, mind staying back for a quick chat?” You nod, standing off to the side as everyone leaves, Molly included. She doesn’t go without a wiggle of her eyebrows and it makes you giggle, as Rafe shuts the classroom door.

He takes a seat back at his desk and you walk over, standing in front. “So, where were you last week?” He asks, folding his arms over his chest.

“I uh, wasn’t feeling too well,” you lie. You know he knows you’re lying too, you can see it in his eyes. He nods, leaning forward, and you can see him swallow.

“That uh, Tobey Brown kid, you’re not seeing him are you?” The question shocks you, and you’re sure it’d slap you in the face if it could.

“Why do you care if I am?” A flash of anger reaches across his face, before it disappears again, replaced with a look of discomfort.

“I’m not saying- I just don’t think he’s a good kid,” kid. The word sinks in like bricks in a pool, heavy and hard. If he thought Tobey was a kid- what did he think of you?

You were the same age as Tobey afterall. It put everything you thought into question- was he just an overly affectionate guy to his students? Or was he a creep. You bite your tongue instead of asking.

Rafe can sense a change in your mood, like you’re lost deep in thought- so he stands, beckoning for you to follow him into his office. He grabs your paper, opening the door.

You follow. Like you’re on autopilot, you follow him. You take a seat at the all too familiar chair as he takes a seat from across you, placing the paper between you.

He doesn’t open it. You’re wondering why, basking in the silence between the two of you when he speaks.

“Are we going to review my paper?” your eyes meet his own. He’s lax, sat back in his seat, arms crossed on his chest and his legs sit wide open under the table. They don’t quite touch yours, not yet.

“Yes, yes we are. I’m gonna tell you what’s wrong and you’re gonna re figure it out,” he tells you, smile watched into his features as he leans forward. He opens the paper, scanning through it as he looks for something you’ve done wrong.

You’re looking too, waiting for when he stops- and when he finally does, you’re embarrassed. It’s an easy question, that you were positive you’d got right. Rafe places the paper in front of you, finger jabbing the spot where you’re supposed to be looking before passing you a pen.

“You’ve gone wrong at some point during this, and I want you to figure out how,” he says, leaning back again. You nod, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear before leaning down and looking at the question.

It doesn’t take you long to get frustrated, getting the same answer over and over again. You whine, looking up at Rafe who’s watching you with amusement. “I can’t figure it out,”

“Why not? What’s confusing you?” His voice is cool, slicing right through your thoughts and you completely forget what you were going to say.

“I don’t know, I get the same answer every time,” rafe nods, standing from his chair. He’s round the desk in no time, leaning over you and looking at your reworkings of the question.

Your lungs stop working. You can’t breathe, eyes darting down at your slightly shaking hand as he’s all in your space. His presence feels so inviting, warm musky smell going right through your nostrils despite the lack of breathing you’re able to do.

He jabs the page again, causing your eyes to flutter over where he’s looking. He takes the pen from your hand, crossing out one of your workings and replacing it with his own. It changes the entire equation, giving a complete different answer from the one you had.

You feel so stupid. The pen drops to the paper and Rafe leans in closer. “Do you get it now?” He whispers, breath hot and heavy on your neck, causing you to shiver.

You nod, slowly, feeling his back against the back of your head as it tips backwards with your nod. Both his hands splay on the desk around you, caging you in.

“Yeah? Explain it to me,” he drawls, and you feel the heat crawl up your neck. If he could, he’d see your face bright red.

“I uh- I fucked up with one of my last equations which sent me in the wrong direction- it should’ve uh, been m equals 15x and not m equals 16x. I’m not sure where the extra number came from,” you whisper, gulping as he leans in even closer, if possible.

“Good. I knew you’d get there eventually, sweetheart.” You thought, when you first saw this man two weeks ago, you wouldn’t be like everyone else in class. He was a pretty face, the new chew toy for all the girls in class. You’d have thought- you wouldn’t be bothered by his voice, or his muscles, or his face- but boy, was he testing you.

You turn in the chair, looking up at him as he’s already staring down at you. You can feel it, feel the need, as neither of you move an inch. Just staring. You couldn’t deny how attractive he was, especially this close. His eyes break away from your own and down to your lips, before looking back up at you. There’s something there, glinting behind his blue irises.

He moves closer. If this were anywhere else, there wouldn’t be that nagging in the back of your head that this were wrong. He’s your teacher- but, the other side argues that he’s just an assistant- but god, you’d be damned if you weren’t feeling this right now. In this moment, he’s not your teacher. This is something else.

His eyes dart down to your lips again and it feels like you’ve been here for a millennia before he whispers, “fuck it.”

And suddenly, you’re kissing. He leans in closer, hands grasping your cheeks as you try to turn in the seat even more, grasping at his sweater. He kisses you like he’s got no oxygen, hands swiping up to push your hair behind your ears.

You moan slightly as his teeth scrape your bottom lip, fingers wrapping around his neck and scraping your fingers through the buzzed hair there. Rafe groans, pulling you up from the chair and pushing it out of the way. His hands make their way down to your waist, pushing you backwards towards the desk. You reach up, sitting on the desk, lips still locked onto Rafe’s.

One of his hands wrapped around your waist, the other splays on top your thigh just at the edge of your dress. You can feel his hand slipping behind your denim jacket, onto the small of your back as he pulls you towards the edge of the desk and you open your legs for him, allowing him to slot in between.

He groans, pulling away from you. He’s breathing heavy, lips swollen, and you can only imagine what you look like if he still looks that good.

He looks down between the two of you, letting out a heavy sigh. “You’re killing me, fuck.” His fingers play with the edge of your dress, chest heaving. You move a hand up the back of his head, feeling the buzz before pulling him back in for another kiss.

He accepts, capturing your lips again, hand slipping underneath your dress. He’s sliding his fingers over the sensitive part of your thigh, getting closer and closer to where you know you’re positively soaked, because of him.

And then reality hits. Like a freight train, it hits. You’re in his office, kissing your teacher. Kissing a twenty seven year old man. You pull back, shaking your head as the foggy mush finally leaves. Rafe’s look is questioning but he pulls back, hands leaving you colder than previously.

“I just- I don’t know, I think this is-” Rafe nods, face turning to stone. He fully pulls away from you, standing to the side as he sorts his pants out.

“Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow for class.” He doesn’t look at you and you wonder what you’ve done wrong, but he doesn’t say another word as you grab your bag, silently leaving the office.

As you reach your car, you can’t help but feel you’re made a mistake- uncomfortable heat between your legs and heavy head unable to think straight. You don’t know really, what actually just happened- but you know Molly was right.

You definitely wanted more. It makes you wonder why you stopped in the first place, freezing up like you did the time before. You’ve never had a man make you this nervous, ever.

But the way that he reacted when you stopped? It wasn’t good. Like he thought you regretted it or something, when you didn’t. You were just confused.

As you turn the ignition, you run your hands over your face. You weren’t sure what you’d got yourself into, but this was far from over.

Note ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪

Oh my goodness. It’s getting hot in here 🫣 I cannot wait to write the next chapter, I’m loving this series and I hope you guys are too !

Tags ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪

@dudenhaaa27 @outerbankspov @ayy1234567 @rxfecameronsslut @potter-head-phanatic @lilithblackkk @akobx @nina357 @percysley @kundaquarius @elyseesarchive @purplerose291